


Second Nature

by PlushRabbit



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRabbit/pseuds/PlushRabbit
Summary: MC feels bad when Mammon keeps getting teased and bullied.
Relationships: Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 249





	Second Nature

-

It starts off as little things. Little flecks of snow that soon turn into a raging storm that you don’t recall the first drop. It starts off as shoves and waving him off that twist into insults and ignoring what he says. It’s supposed to be funny-you’re supposed to laugh and join in on the fun. But this type of “fun” leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, like you’ve eaten a lemon. You try to reason to yourself that they’re brothers, siblings always fight but they always care, you try to tell yourself that they’re demons, that maybe the way they show affection is different- that constant insults are common and probably the norm for them. You bite your cheeks and dig your nails into your palms as his face turns a darker shade, eyes narrowing and looking away as his brothers tease him, complaining that they always do this. You don’t join their remarks, give a half-hearted chuckle when they nudge you and instantly feel bad when you see his face fall and he reminds you of a kicked puppy. Your eyebrows crinkle when they ignore him and heart aches when they call him “stupid”. 

The scummy second born is what they call him. Never letting him forget it. Never letting him lose his title. Mammon, Avatar of Greed, who’s stupid, money hungry, scummy, and every other bad thing someone can think of. Mammon, Avatar of Greed, who’s empathetic, in control of his emotions, gentle when he holds your hands, and every other good thing that you can think of.

It starts off as little things. Gentle rain that creates a rhythmic sound that turns into a storm that cleans the Earth. You move closer to him when insults are spat at him to asking him a question when the laughter becomes too poisonous- raising your voice above the others and forcing him to look at you to leading him away- your hand hooking into his elbow as you talk to him, making eye contact and smiling too wide in an attempt to show that you have him and he has you. Like a storm, it catches you off guard, you can;t remember the exact time it started pouring but you know it happens. You don’t know when you’ve taken his hand in yours, hands interlacing with his and holding on tight as if he were your lifeline rather than you were his. You hold hands underneath the table, chairs pushed close to each other, the heat on your cheeks a dead giveaway as the brothers tease and watch the both of you with knowing smiles. 

It’s a silent progression that catches you off guard, that makes you stiffen under his touch when he actively searches for you, his hands waltzing over to yours, face flushed and eyes too interested in the plate in front of him. You suddenly feel your chest too tight when he looks for you on his own accord, azure eyes scanning the rooms until he finds you, laying his head on your lap and complains about his day, his voice growing more agitated as it speaks and suddenly the hand holding isn’t enough to keep him from snarling, you have to run your hands in between his snow white hair, massage his scalp and listen and coo words of praise as he sinks into you, mumbling about how you’re finally learning your place. It’s the silent progression where he rarely calls you human, where he starts to use your name and wrap himself around you or place a leg on you when you two are alone, a moment of peace where he sprawls himself on top of you and gives you a cheeky grin- it’s that progression that makes it harder to keep the blush away.

-

“Mammon,” you whisper to him, eyes trained on the book in front of you.

His fingers stop mid-scroll, thin, delicate hands are still and he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. “What is it?” He forces himself to sound annoyed but you have his entire attention.

“I need help with my math.” You’re starting to get a headache and tears of frustration have already started to burn your eyes. “I don’t get it,” you’re voice is strained and by the way your knuckles turn white around the pencil, he knows that you’re close to your breaking point.

His chair scoots closer to you, a click of his tongue and his phone thumps against the wooden table. “And why should I help ya?” He’s going to help you but he needs to put on his tough guy act. 

You snort and shake your head and meet his eyes. “I’ll,” you let the word dance on your tongue, trying to find something to bribe him with, “take you out to eat? My treat,” you smile, your pencil extended to him.

“Just us?” His face is flushed and his tone is high pitched like he’s straining to speak. 

“I mean, we can invite the others but I’m not paying for them.” You quirk your eyebrows and bounce the pencil in your hand. “Come on, please Mammon, I really need help and you’re good with numbers.” You take a bratty tone of voice, bouncing your legs and pouting at him.

He snatches the pencil of your hand and shakes his head. “Of course, you need The Great Mammon!” He’s erasing your work and scribbles on your paper. “I’m only doing it because I’m getting something out of it!” He speaks fast, pencil flying across the page and fixing all your other errors.

You watch him with a soft smile and rest your chin on your palm. “Yeah, I do need The Great Mammon.” Your hand instinctively comes up to pet him, frail fingers smoothing his messed up hair and scratching his scalp.

He leans to your touch and closes his eyes, the pencil still and loose in his hand. It’s silent for a moment, his deep breathing turning into purring, phone flashing as he receives new messages is forgotten and cast aside.

The silence is broken when the ever hungry Beelzebub enters the room, apple in hand as he asks about dinner plans.

Mammon sits tall with a lazy look on his face, rolling his eyes with a smirk. “Of course you’d hear the dinner part.”

He grunts at Mammon and turns to face you. “What are we doing for dinner? That human place we went last time was actually pretty good.” 

You could never be annoyed at Beelzebub. He’s too sweet, innocence that radiates off of him despite that he’s a demon, the Avatar of Gluttony, but you don’t want him here. You liked the little moment of peace that surrounded you and Mammon, where it was just the two of you in this bubble. You look up at ginger, grin in show, “Maybe Belphie would like to go? He hasn’t been right?” His hair is like silk against your fingers as you leave him, hands and eyes focusing on the paper in front of you, answers boxed in. 

“You guys don’t want to come?” He leans on the doorframe and bites into the core, a thin eyebrow raised. 

“Oh!” You jump in your seat and clasp your hands in front of you, “I mean-” you trail off and look to Mammon for help.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Nah, we have other plans,” his canine peaks out as he smiles, shoulders hunched as hands grab his phone.

Beel shrugs, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “If you say so. See you later.” He waves goodbye and suddenly it’s just the two of you alone again. 

The air in the room feels different. The moment of peace has been disturbed, it’s heavy as you both sit in a thick silence. Your hand feels stiff and you can still feel his hair between your fingers. 

“Thanks for helping,” you murmur out, suddenly feeling timid. “I’ve always been bad at math.” 

“Well,” he swallows, “I have to take care of you and all and if Lucifer finds out I let you fail he’d never shut up about it.” He waves a hand in front of him, face flushed as he stares at his phone, finger scrolling upwards without even sparing a glance at the content in front of him.

“And for dinner?” You ask, a smile tugging on your lips as you put your work away, cracking your knuckles.

“You’re paying.” His reply is curt and voice tense. 

“Yeah, I am.” You stand and stretch, letting out a whine as your muscles stretch. “Just tell me when.” You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, smoothing out the school uniform.

You look at him expectantly, his finger has frozen, stuck in mid swipe as you watch him, bouncing on your heels and clutching the strap between both hands, cheeks beginning to heat.

“Well I’m free Sunday,” His face has taken on a darker shade, “so we can go out then.” He replies swiftly, looking at you for a brief second, only to return his attention to the phone.

You nod. “Cool, so it’s a date,” you say without thinking, back already turned. You hear his breath hitch but you keep walking, biting your bottom lip and walking away briskly.

You enter your room and shut the door behind you, your bag lands on a chair and slumps over.. You lie face down on the bed and let out a muffled whine. You didn’t know what came over you, why you had said it was a date. He was always so different when he was with you. He was softer, fretting over you and then getting defensive over it when teased, he wanted to be by your side whenever he could but would never say the words out loud. You were clueless but even you could see that he held feelings towards you. And you liked him back. You liked the attention that he gave you, you liked holding his hand and having him include you in his schemes even if they weren’t always the safest. But you never wanted to blurt it out to him, never wanted to push until he was ready to actually tell you.

You rise on shaky arms and turn to your back. In your bag, a muffled ring sounds out. You rush over to grab your phone, sighing when it’s only a message from Asmo telling you that tonight’s movie night and to wear something cute complete with a set of winky and heart emojis. You smile as you type back a reply, tossing your phone on the bed as you enter the attached bathroom in your bedroom. 

-

Living with the brothers as a human is different from everything you’re used to. It’s a lot of adjustments to food, sleep schedules, the yanking of your arms into rooms, the brothers having no sense of personal space and rummaging in your room, late night talks where someone always enters your room to talk about anime, feelings, beauty tips, or even just to nap. It’s early into your stay here when you’re tired of the pillow fights and bring in movie night. 

It’s nights like those where you get to see parts of their hidden personality shine out, where you get to see what type of films they’re excited to bring as you all sit around covered with blankets and propped against pillows, bowls of various foods empty by the first half. And it’s nice. It’s nice to see the brothers enjoy themselves and talk over the film. It’s nice when you bring in a few of your personal ones and get to see their reaction to something that you like.

It’s movie night, something that you brought in when you came to live in the House of Lamentation and you wonder if it’ll leave with you. The couch is adorned with blankets of all colors, soft to the touch that it feels like you’re touching a cloud, pillows that cover up and spill onto the floor, soft and plush, almost too sinful to ever be touched by a human’s hand. Food that looks so tempting that you understand why Eve bite into the apple. 

You’re sandwiched between Mammon and Asmo. A demon who won’t admit that he craves your touch more than anything else in the world and a demon who is so touchy with you that he’s immediately reaching for you the moment you’re near him or even calling for you to shower him with love. 

It’s not a bad situation to be in; you enjoy being around each of the brothers. But sometimes Asmo’s touch can get too much and while he’ll back down when you tell him so, he’ll gravitate towards you without even realizing it, his hands clasping around yours, head on your chest and his scent of perfume that invades your scent and always gives you headaches after smelling it for too long.

The night starts off easy- laughter and food being passed around, blankets stolen and loud commentary as you watch the film. Your legs are curled underneath you, the blanket bunched in your hands as you watch with unblinking eyes the ghosts that stalk the family, always within reach but out of sight. You swallow nervously and eyes dart to the open door on the left side of the room. Next to you, Mammon has his lips pulled into a thin line, body shaking as he watches the tale unfold before his eyes. 

It’s the suspense that gets you- knowing that something bad is going to happen, the dread that pools in your stomach and sends a chill that runs through your spine. Your hands inch towards Mammon who has curled in on himself and looks pale. Your blood pumps in your ears and there’s a low whine in the back of your throat as the protagonist watches a tape. The screen flashes black, reflections appearing for a brief moment before grass fills the screen illuminated by a yellow glow from a flashlight and then there’s a mower that runs over the heads of a family and you jumpp, hands latching around a tanned arm, and head buried in with eyes shut tight. There’s gasps and yelps that turn into coughs and there’s a scream close to you that makes you bury your head deeper, trying to get away from the noise. 

It’s silent in the room. The movie on pause and you flinch when you feel a hand pat your back, fingers gently running up and down coaxing you to come out. You peek an eye open and slowly unlatch yourself, your hands brushing stray hairs away from your face.

“So,” you click your tongue, “that was a scary bit.”

Levi lets out a snort and brings a hand to point at Mammon who is red in the face and avoiding to look at the television. “No shit. By the way you and Mammon screamed you’d think the world was ending lol,” he snickers.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that most humans are scared by lawn mowers going over people’s heads! Especially if it’s supposed to be a jumpscare!” You retort, crossing your arms in front of you, pouting at the purple haired demon. 

“Most demons aren’t scared by something like that,” he replies, sticking his tongue out through a grin.

“And yet Mammon was terrified.” Asmo laughs behind his manicured hand. “He’s still pale too.”

“Hey! I got scared because they grabbed my arm! And I ain’t pale either! It’s the damn lighting!” Mammon tries to defend himself, back straight as he snaps at his younger brothers.

“He’s always been the most scared out of all us,” Belphie mumbles, a hand rubbing at his eye as he lowers the volume on the television.

The others nod and hum in agreement, repositioning themselves from the sudden scare and grabbing snacks that are still within their packaging. 

“Oi! Are you even listenin’ to me?” Mammon shouts, pulling the blanket closer to him.

“Mammon,” Asmo says calmly, remote in hand, “shut up.” He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch cushions, flashing you smile as he places his hand over yours and gives it squeeze. 

You pull your hand and hold it close to your chest, scooting closer to Mammon. 

The movie continues to play, little snickers and chuckles fading as the protagonist is now in complete distress. 

As if second instinct, which at this point it was, your hand reaches underneath the blanket and you hold his hand in yours. His hand twists around so and he intertwines his fingers with yours. His shoulders are squared and his leg is bouncing, the blanket slipping off his body. Your hand squeezes him and you thumb runs over his; you don’t look at him, instead focusing all your attention on the movies, your breath hitching whenever something unsettling happens, his hand tightens arounds yours and you’re sure that it’s both for your benefit and his.

You toss your legs on top of Mammon’s, curling in closer to him and leaning on his bicep. He’s stiff underneath you and his hand separates from yours. In the middle of mumbling an apology, your legs shifting off of his, he places his hand on your knee, fingers drumming across before coming to a rest. A smile graces your features and you sit straighter, pulling the blanket towards you while you rest on him, the movie no longer interests you and your hand reaches underneath and starts to trace his hand. 

It’s a calming motion that you lose yourself in, focusing on the lines of his hands, the way his hand is tense, finger tips pressing down against your knee and loosening up as the repetitive movements continue, knuckles that protrude from his thin hand and twitch when you circle the bone. You’ve held his hand in yours before, felt the way it grew clammy and rigid before holding your hand loose, as if he was scared to hold on to tight to a “fragile human”, how it evolved to him seeking out your hand, holding tight and squeezing yours as if to make sure that you were still there and not a figment of his mind.

The movie ends without much shock and screams of horror- the others being harder to scare and the two easier ones to scare to distracted to even realize that the credits were rolling. Bones pop and lights are turned on that make you squint and move your hand away from his. 

“All right, what’s the next movie?” Lucifer asks, standing up and stretching his arms overhead. “Remember you get to choose three movies for the night since someone wanted to watch an entire series for their night.” Red eyes flicker over to Levi who is typing away at his phone.

You open your mouth about to respond before being cut off by Asmo who runs a hand through his hair. “Nothing too scary, love? I don’t think you or Mammon could handle it.” He flashes you a smile.

“I’m going to get more snacks,” Beel grumbles, scooping up empty bowls into his arms and walking into the kitchen.

“Well there’s a sequel to it but it got some bad reviews but I still think we should watch it,” you say, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table and pulling up the next movie on your list. “I don’t think it should be as scary as the first.”

The second movie starts off fine. A few teasing comments in the beginning that are met with rolling of the eyes and a sneer that turns into a smirk. Everything is fine and you can even crack a few jokes during the movie, leaning against Mammon and putting your legs on Asmo’s, giggling when he gives you a mock offended look. Your hands rests upon his and you instantly begin to trace his hand again, your eyes growing heavy and movements slowing before they come to a still. Your vision slowly goes black and breathing becomes deep. 

You’re startled awake by a shrill yelp, where you jerk awake and look around wide eyed before eyes land on Mammon who has his hand over his chest, fingers clutching the shirt. It’s silent for a moment before the teasing starts, the calm before the storm. You immediately regret choosing a horror movie for your night, your heart sinking and mouth going dry. They use you against him, mocking him when you didn’t get scared. You reach out to touch his hand underneath the blanket but he recoils away from you, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

Your shoulders slump and your eyebrows furrow. You toss the blanket off of you and rise from the couch, twisting your back and flexing your hands. “I’m going to bed.” You grab a blanket you had brought from your room. “Good night!” You side step between the tangled mess of legs and the coffee table. 

“But it’s your night?” Levi asks, his phone stuffed into his pocket.

“Well I forfeit it.” You wave with your back turned, clutching the blanket to your chest and climbing the stairs. “See y’all for breakfast.” 

The door shuts behind you with a soft click and you flop onto bed, pulling out your phone and beginning to mindlessly scroll through your phone, eyes still heavy with sleep but your body refusing to sleep. There’s a soft knock on your door, shadows under the door that fidget as they wait for you to answer. You lay still on your bed, the screen on your phone growing dimmer, when another knock breaks you from your trance.

“Yeah?” You ask, putting your phone down.

“Can I come in?” A voice asks.

You sigh and sit up in your bed, crossing your legs. “Yeah, you can come in.”

The door opens softly and closes with a click. Azure eyes meet yours before the break away and walk over to you, the edge of your bed dipping underneath his weight. It’s silent for a minute, your hands tapping on your bed. “Why did you leave?” His voice is low and he sits further on your bed, matching your posture and turning to meet you.

You sigh and grap the blanket, wrapping it around yourself. “I don’t know,” you begin to play with your hands, “I just felt tired.”

“Felt tired about what?” He leans his head against the wall and watches you.

You let out a breathy chuckle and lay back down on the bed, patting the space next to you for him to follow. “I just,” you begin to trail off chewing on your bottom lip, “I don’t like hearing them tease you.” You turn on your side to face him. He gives you a quizzical look and you continue to explain yourself. “I get that you’re brothers and maybe teasing is like that, but as me, I just don’t like it. It always feels mean spirited.” You scoff. “Sorry if I’m being dumb.”

He’s silent for a while and you can’t read him, his eyes dart around and he rises from the bed, turning off the lights and climbing in with you. He shifts on the bed, fluffling up his pillow and pulling the blanket across his body. 

“‘Mon?” You whisper, your voice filling the silence.

“They’re my brothers,” he replies, his hand reaching towards yours.

“I know.” You hook your pinky with his. “I just- it bothers me is all.” He hums in response and you wish you could see him. You move your hand away from his and his hand inches forwards to find yours. You can hear his breath hitch when you run your hand up his chest to caress the side of his face. “I just don’t like hearing people insult you.”

“Why?”

“Because Mammon,” you reply exasperated, throwing your hands in front of you,, “you’re not any of that! You’re like super good at math and sure you’re a little loose with money but that isn’t your fault and there are a bunch of apps to help with finances!” Your hands curl into fists before you shake the feeling off. “You’re more than what they say. You’re super nice! You like know when I’m feeling bad or when anybody is feeling bad. You like never lose your cool with me even when I put Goldie in the microwave. You’re really nice and do your best to always protect me. You always help me when I’m in a pinch and you never really keep secrets from me. You don’t- You’re really nice to me.” Your voice softens, “I know you didn’t have a choice when you were assigned to take care of me, but I’m glad it was you. You mean a lot to me. You’re my friend Mammon. Like my closest friend.” Your heart skips a beat and your ears burn. “I don’t like seeing people insult and ignore the people I care about.”

He’s silent and you wish desperately that you could see him in the night. He clicks his tongue. “Of course you’d care about me,” he smiles in the night.

You tap his cheek softly, smiling when he gasps. “Come on, I’m being serious.” His hand covers your hand. “I like being with all of you but I hate it when they like say stuff. And I always feel bad when I just sit there.” You chuckle bitterly. “What kind of friend does that?” Your voice is low and you shrink into yourself.

“No, no. It’s fine.” He takes a deep breath and his fingers start to trace your hands, mimicking your motions from early. “You- When you started to hold my hand, I uh- fuck,” he seethes the last word out.

You chuckle softly and stroke his cheek before removing your hand and grabbing his, interlacing them together. “I know what you’re trying to say.” You wonder if he can see you in the dark. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to make you happy.” You rise from your position and peck his cheek. “I’ll always make The Great Mammon happy,” you whisper, your lips lingering for a second, enough to feel heat rise to his face. He sputters for a second and your turn on your back stifling your laughter with a hand. 

“Just go to bed,” he manages to make out his tone flustered with a cupping the cheek you had kissed.

“You know if you’re this flustered from a kiss on the cheek, I have no idea how you’ll survive our date,” you tease, letting your eyes shut with a playful grin etched on your face.

“I am not flustered!” He whispers harshly. “You’ll be the one flustered! A hundred times over! I bet you!” His tone is rising and you silently laugh, little sounds of joy erupting from you before you decide to bury your face in his chest, holding him tight. He becomes silent in a heartbeat, shaky hands coming to rest on your back before relaxing and letting his hands raise to brush your hair, soothing out different strands and letting them slip out of his hands like gentle waves.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you mumble, your body melting into his. “Goodnight Mammon,” you yawn, your eyes and mind finally going to rest.

Through your sleepy haze you hear him whisper to you goodnight with a press of his lips against the crown of your head, curling closer into you.

The relationship you two have runs deep. You both search for each other in the darkness- when insults get too loud, when homework becomes too stressful, when you miss home a bit too much- you both wander until hands fit together and you lean against him or when he lays down on your lap and lets your read to him while you come your hand through his hair. It’s a relationship that helps you feel like you fit in, that helps you breathe a little easier when he climbs into bed with you and tells you not to hog the blanket. It’s second nature to find each other in the night and have your limbs tangle with one another or to have a hand interlocked with the other’s, it’s just something that happens because it’s easy for you both.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel really bad for Mammon and MC never has an option to interject which isn't sad.


End file.
